Wolfstep had already alerted the Clan, who gathered around as Raggedpelt carried his apprentice through the tunnel. Nettlespot let out a piteous wail when she saw her son.
“My precious kit! Save him! You must save him!”
“We’ll do our best,” Yellowfang promised her.
The two newest apprentices, Nightpaw and Clawpaw, watched in alarm as Raggedpelt progressed slowly across the clearing, until their mentors, Foxheart and Crowtail, came up and swept them away.
At last Raggedpelt reached the medicine cat’s den and laid Cloudpaw gently down on a bed of moss. Sagewhisker flicked him with her tail as he tried to settle down beside his apprentice.
“No, Raggedpelt,” she mewed. “You’ve done all you can. It’s time to let us take over.”
Raggedpelt looked as if he was about to argue, then rose to his paws in silence. With one last look at Cloudpaw he left the den, his head and tail drooping.
Yellowfang watched as Sagewhisker bent over Cloudpaw and eased the cobwebs away from his wound. When she had laid the gash bare, the medicine cat looked up, meeting Yellowfang’s gaze.
“It’s very serious,” she mewed. “It might be kinder to let StarClan take him now.”
“No!” Yellowfang hissed. “This cat will not die! I’ll care for him myself, if you’re willing to give up.” Furious with Sagewhisker for admitting defeat, Yellowfang went to the entrance of the den and stuck her head out. “Hey!” she called to Nutwhisker, who was padding past. “Fetch me some wet moss—as quickly as you can!”
Her brother dashed off and Yellowfang went to the herb stores and uncovered horsetail, goldenrod, and marigold, which she mixed together in a poultice. Crouching beside Cloudpaw, she licked the wound until it was as clean as she could make it, then bound the poultice in place with strands of cobweb from the thornbushes. After a moment she felt Sagewhisker beside her, holding the leaves in place while Yellowfang secured the cobweb.
“I won’t stop you from trying to help him,” the old medicine cat told her. “But you must be prepared for the worst.”
By the time the wound was dressed, Nutwhisker was back with a jawful of dripping moss. Yellowfang squeezed some water into Cloudpaw’s mouth. He was still unconscious. She watched the slight movement of his chest, the only thing that told her he was still alive. Icy fear froze Yellowfang from ears to tail-tip at the thought that those feeble breaths might stop altogether. The sun was going down behind the trees and a chilly wind rose.
“I’ll stay with him,” Yellowfang told Sagewhisker. She settled down beside him. “I’ll keep him warm.”
Sagewhisker nodded and went out to check the scratches of the other cats who had been in the fight. Darkness had fallen by the time she returned. She came over for another look at Cloudpaw, then curled into her own nest.
“Call me if there’s a problem,” she mewed to Yellowfang before closing her eyes.
Yellowfang sat beside the injured apprentice, gazing up at the sky as the warriors of StarClan emerged. “Was this our fault?” she whispered. “Did it happen because Raggedpelt and I were together? Please, StarClan, send me a sign, and if you’re angry with us, please don’t punish this apprentice. He’s too young to come to you yet.”
But the stars glittered coldly above her, and she didn’t know if her plea had been heard.
Weariness eventually overcame Yellowfang and she fell into a doze. Then she felt a cat gently nudging her; she started up, thinking that Cloudpaw needed her, only to find herself standing in a windswept marsh. The cat beside her was holding out a leaf of comfrey. Yellowfang didn’t recognize him, but he bore the scent of ShadowClan, and the scent of herbs too in his thick gray pelt. As she took the leaf, Yellowfang heard a thin wailing by her paws and looked down to see a tiny tabby kit with blood trickling from a scratched ear.
Yellowfang bent her head and chewed up the comfrey leaf so that the juice trickled onto the kit’s ear. At once the wound closed up as if it had never been there, leaving no scar.
Raising her head again, Yellowfang saw the gray cat was holding out a different leaf. Beyond him was another cat and another, a line stretching out into the distance as far as Yellowfang could see. They were passing herbs to one another, sending the leaves along the line to Yellowfang in a hushed silence.
They’re all medicine cats! Yellowfang realized with astonishment. And I’m one of them. At the end of the line, treating this cat, but with all of their support and wisdom to help me. A feeling of deep peace crept over her.
She took another leaf, catmint this time, and held it out to a little brown kit who was coughing badly. The kit swallowed it, stopped coughing, and faded away. A mist rose and blotted out the other cats and the marshland where they stood.
Yellowfang was roused by a whimpering noise close by. Cloudpaw squirmed in his nest, letting out feeble cries. His whole body was burning with fever. Yellowfang dripped more water into his mouth, and laid a paw gently on his shoulder in an effort to stop the movement. “Keep still, little one,” she murmured. “You’ll open your wound again.”
The moment he settled, she got up to visit the herb stores again, finding what she needed more by scent than touch in the faint starlight.
Sagewhisker stirred behind her. “How is he?” she asked, her voice blurry with sleep.
“Feverish,” Yellowfang responded, finally finding the herb she was looking for.
“Cloudpaw!”
The yowl startled Yellowfang, and she turned to see Nettlespot pushing her way between the boulders into the den. “I have to see my son!” she meowed.
Sagewhisker rose from her nest and blocked Nettlespot before she could reach Cloudpaw. “It’s the middle of the night,” she told her. “Cloudpaw mustn’t be disturbed. Come back tomorrow.”
“But I need to see him!” Nettlespot insisted.
“Not now.” Sagewhisker’s voice was gentle. “Cloudpaw needs his rest. I promise you, if he gets worse, we will call you.”
Nettlespot hesitated, then turned and left the den, her tail drooping. Yellowfang was glad to see her go, though she could understand her fear.
“It’s hard for her,” Sagewhisker commented, as she padded over to look down at Cloudpaw. Her expression grew even more worried. “Yellowfang,” she whispered, “you can’t save every cat.”
“No, but I can save this one,” Yellowfang growled. “I’m giving him dandelion. That should bring the fever down and help him to sleep.”
Sagewhisker nodded. “Mix in a couple of borage leaves,” she suggested.
Yellowfang chewed up the herbs and thrust the pulp between Cloudpaw’s jaws. As the night wore on she repeated the treatment, not caring how low the stocks of the herbs were growing. Cloudpaw must live! Nothing else matters!
As dawn light began to seep into the sky there was movement at the entrance to the den, and Raggedpelt pushed his way between the boulders. “How is he?” he croaked.
“Holding his own,” Yellowfang replied. She felt her heart ache as she watched the tabby warrior bend over the motionless form of his apprentice. As Raggedpelt drew away, she met his gaze. “I will save him,” she vowed.
She couldn’t speak of what they had been doing when Cloudpaw was hurt, and she could see that Raggedpelt would never speak of it either. Their guilt ran too deep.
“I’ve ordered more border patrols,” Raggedpelt told her, “to make sure those rogues don’t come back.”
Yellowfang nodded. “Don’t let the apprentices patrol there until we’re sure it’s safe,” she advised.